


The Wolf, the Robin, and the Soldier

by Ash_Panda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clint Barton is a Good Dad, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, I swear I'll fix the typos eventually, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Not Beta Read, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Sorta slow burn?, Threesome - F/M/M, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Panda/pseuds/Ash_Panda
Summary: It was just meant to be a one night stand. A handsome stranger saved me at the bar, took me home, then left the next morning before I woke up. That should've been the end.Then Captain America came pounding at my door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This technically isn't reader-insert, but the main character is nameless aside from the nickname they give her, and I strayed from any distinguishing character traits so this can definitely be read as reader-insert.

My head was pounding when I woke up, memories from the night before rushing back. The man from the bar with the metal fingers. The breathless passion that flared between two people just trying to forget. The sheets beside me were still warm, but they were empty. Through my hungover haze I saw the black jacket lying in a heap on my floor. He had left in a hurry. 

I slid from my bed, shivering as the cool air hit my bare skin. I was so deliciously sore. 

"Let me make you feel good. Let me do something good." The man had practically pleaded with me. He had made me come undone twice before he even undid his belt, and even then he only did so when I begged for it. He had been so... Generous. And even after, when I could no longer take anymore, he was so gentle as he carried me to the bathroom and cleaned up both up.

But now he was gone, leaving only a jacket to remember him by. If it weren't for the well-worn leather in a heap on my carpet, I might've believed I had only dreamed of the stranger in my home. I pulled on a tshirt and some shorts then, almost subconsciously, I picked up the jacket and draped it over my shoulders. 

As I started up my coffee maker, there was a pounding at my door, frantic and heavy. I assumed it was the man returning for his jacket, but when I peered through the peephole I was met with the anxious face of a completely different, although strikingly familiar man. I hesitated before pulling open the door, looking up at the towering figure before me. 

I obviously wasn't who this man expected to see. There was a flash of confusion across his face, which morphed into worry, "Is he here?" 

"Is who here?" I asked, keeping a firm grip on the doorknob as if it would protect me if this man tried to pull anything. 

The man looked down at me, raking his fingers through his mess of dark blonde hair, "I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm looking for my friend. I thought he was here..." His eyes dropped to the black jacket that was draped over my shoulders.

"He left earlier this morning. I didn't see him go. I'm sorry." 

"Are... Did... Did he hurt you at all? Are you okay?" 

I nodded slowly, my eyebrows furrowing, "I'm perfectly fine... Why? Is he dangerous?" 

The man seemed hesitant. Conflicted. It wasn't until his eyes met mine that the recognition finally clicked. This man's face was all over the news. Steve Rogers. Captain America. A hero turned enemy of the government. Which meant the man who had carefully drawn out every desire from my very core was-

Shit. 

  My frown only deepened and I pulled the door open wider, "Would you like to come inside and have some coffee, Mr. Rodgers?" 

He stilled for a moment, then nodded, slipping past me into my home. I shut the heavy oak door behind him, turning the lock. I made quick work of pulling my curtains closed as well. I could never be too careful. 

"He was here, wasn't he?" Steve asked, his eyes latching back onto the jacket. 

I nodded slowly, "I met him at a bar last night. I was... Not in a good place. He took me home before I could get too drunk." 

The man I remembered from the night before, as somber as he was, was nothing like the man I had seen on the news. He was gentle and almost afraid. 

I moved to sit down on the couch, placing my head in my hands, "It wasn't him. It couldn't have been. That man wasn't the Winter Soldier. How could I be so,stupid?" 

Steve let out a slow sigh. Relief? He approached me carefully, kneeling in front of me but still giving me space, "You're right. It wasn't. That was Bucky Barnes. Or what's left of him, at least. There were some horrible people who did some horrible things to him. They beat him, brainwashed him and-" 

"Tried to recreate you." I finished, "I know. I know what legths people have gone to for their very own supersoldier. I also know what lengths they'll go through to keep control over the one's they have. Does anybody know you're here?" 

Steve looked somewhat taken aback by my question, but he shook his head, "No. I'm off the grid." 

I let out a small sigh, "Listen to me. I believe you. I believe that Bucky is an innocent man. But I also know that he put me in a lot of danger by coming here. He didn't know, of course. He thought he was just helping some innocent girl. But he didn't pick me out of the crowd of accident. The Winter Soldier was sent to kill me before the programming malfunctioned. If Hydra or Sheild or anyone puts it together, I'm a dead woman. I have to find Bucky before anyone else does."

Steve studied me, the confusion plain across his face, "Who are you? Who's after you?" 

I shook my head, "It's best if you don't know for now. I need you to forget about me. I need to disappear. I need-" I didn't realize how panicked I must look. Everything I had put into place to protect myself was crumbling away just because I was horny. 

"You need to take a breath." Steve's voice was surprisingly firm, "I don't know who you are or why the Winter Soldier was sent after you. But we both need to find Bucky and I can barely go outside without getting recognized. If you let me help then we have a better chance of finding him before anything happens to any of us."


	2. Chapter 2

I definitely didn't trust Steve Rogers and he definitely didn't trust me, so at least we were on the same page in that aspect. I never told him my name, partially out of my own desire for protection and partially because I knew it bothered him. He took to calling me Mrs. Robinson at first, which was eventually shortened to Robin. I took to responding to it as if it was my actual name. 

We travelled together for a month, trailing Bucky wherever we thought he might be. I often serves as public relations, playing different parts wherever needed. I found myself playing the role of gossiping college student, exasperated wife, and, during one particularly bad night, temptress. 

I stormed into the hotel room that night, using every bit of self control I had to not tear the place apart in a blind rage. I felt disgusting. 

"Robin," Steve had been chasing after me, making sure I didn't do anything that might draw attention to myself, "Take a breath. Tell me what happened."

I snapped my head to look at him, shooting him a sharp glare, "Fuck off, Rogers. Next time, why don't you put on a dress and let some creep touch you for some bullshit information? Then you can show me how easy it is to 'take a breath'." I spat at him, ripping the voice recorder from where,it was hidden in my dress and tossing it on the couch. 

Steve looked taken aback, his expression shifting several times before settling into an unreadable frown. He double checked the locks on the door before approaching me carefully, "What happened?" He asked again, gentler this time instead of being barked out like an order.

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head, "Nothing too bad. The guy was just a creep. I'm sorry I lost my cool." I replied blankly. 

"Robin. I know that kind of panic. You didn't just loose your cool. There's something youre not telling me. I've been respectful of your privacy until now but you can't keep doing this. We need to be able to trust eachother but I don't even know your name." Steve sounded exhasperated, angry, but also, buried there in the slight shake in his voice, worried, "I swear I'll do my best to protect you, but I can't do that if I don't know what I'm protecting you from." 

I crumpled onto the couch with a heavy sigh, my shoulders slumping forward, "I- I can't. You don't understand. I can't. Please. I've spent my whole life running."

Steve knelt in front of me just like the first morning he showed up at my doorstep, "I don't want to push you, Robin. I want you to trust me. But I also want to find Bucky, and right now you're the only lead I've got. I love him. He's all I have left. I have to find him. So please. Please. I swear to you that I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. You don't have to run anymore." 

I shifted slightly, patting the empty seat next to me on the couch which Steve slid onto. I tilted my head away from him, pulling my hair all to one side. Behind my ear, there was a series of black marks. It used to be a tattoo, a series of numbers and letters, but there was a large, jagged scar dragged across it which rendered it unreadable. 

"Hydra wasn't the only organization that wanted their very own supersoldier. The Snowfall iniative was working underground to recreate what Howard Stark did to you and what Hydra did to Bucky. There were 20 of us at first. They would shoot us full of whatever serums they thought might work, and then they would 'train' us until we were exhausted. Growth through suffering. I was the only one that survived. I was 9 when they finally realized that I was the different one." I let my hair fall back into place. 

Steve remained silent, trying to proxess everything I told him, "Nine?" He asked after a moment. 

I nodded, "They thought that if they worked with children, we would submit to them easier. I was born in that lab. All I knew was the needles and the training. But there was someone who let me go while Snowfall was burning to the ground. I've been running for 10 years." 

This was the first time I had ever spoken about what I was and where I came from. It was a secret that I had locked away from the moment I left. But Steve was right. We needed to trust eachother and I needed an ally. So I told him. 

I looked over to him and instantly regretted doing so because I saw the pain and anger written plain as day across his sharp features. He sat still for a moment then, slowly as if he might scare me away, he reached out his hand and placed it on top of mine. It was his way of asking if I trusted him. I almost pulled away. I really wanted to and he would've let me. I could've ended this moment in an instant. But instead, I turned my hand so my palm was touching his and allowed our fingers to interlock. 

"I-" He began.

"I know." 

Suddenly, I was pulled into a strong embrace. Steve hugged my firmly to his broad chest. I struggled for a moment, mostly out of surprise, but then I found myself relaxing into his arms. It felt as if I had been carrying weights for years, but I could finally set them down. I could almost float away if Rogers wasn't keeping me grounded. It was what I needed most in that moment. 

I didn't notice I had dozed off. When I opened my eyes, we were still on the couch but we were shifted. Steve was laying down, fast asleep, and I was on top of him with my head still resting on his chest. I shifted, trying to roll off of him without disturbing his sleep. It was easier said than done, and I ended up hanging awkwardly from the couch when I heard the deep chuckle of Captain America, "Good morning." 

I looked up at him, caught off-guard by the sleepy grin he was giving me. "Hi." I responded, suprised by my own breathless voice. I slid awkwardly to the ground, trying to keep some semblance of calm. 

Steve raised an eyebrow at me, his amusement plain on his face. He glanced down at his watch, "We've only been asleep for 3 hours, you should go get some more rest." 

I shook my head, "I'm too awake for that now. You can, though." 

Steve sat up on the couch, furrowing his eyebrows. "Robin." He spoke firmly. 

My eyes met his. He didn't have that familiar Captain America look that he used on me when I denied him. He looked much softer, more worried. I responded to him quietly, "Rogers."

"You've barely slept since we started this whole thing. I haven't said anything before but..." 

I sighed, shifting so I was sitting back against the base of the couch, "I've been getting nightmares." After telling Steve all my deep dark secrets, admitting such a small thing should be easy. But the way Steve was looking at me made it difficult somehow. Like he cared. Like he wanted to help. He didn't say anything, which I took as a sign to continue, "I can barely close my eyes before I start getting paranoid, so I just stopped trying." 

He nodded slowly, "Thank you for telling me. Did... Did sleeping next to me help?" 

I could've lied. I could've said it didn't. But something told me that he wanted me to say yes, "Did it help you?" 

He was still for a moment, but then he nodded again. I reached up and placed my hand on top of his, mirroring his movements from earlier. Just as I did, he shifted so our fingers entwined. 

"Okay then." I stood up slowly and tugged on Steve lightly, indicating that I wanted him to follow me. We moved over to the bed and, after changing into more comfortable clothing, slid into it. It was awkward at first and not nearly as natural as the unintentional cuddling session on the couch, but eventually we got comfortable. I was curled up against Steve's side with his arm wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest. I could hear his heart beating at a strong, steady pace. It was comforting in the most basic sense. 

"What was he like when you saw him?" Steve asked suddenly, "What happened the night you..." His voice drifted off. 

"Do you want to know everything or just the... Innocent stuff?" 

I could feel him shrug, "Whatever you're willing to tell." 

I sighed and settled closer to him almost subconsciously as I began to recount the evening in as much detail I could remember.


	3. (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this was slow burn but... I suck at that, apparently. So have this instead!

The bar was quiet. It always was during week nights. It was such a small town that there were only a handful of people in a bad enough way that they found themselves drinking on a Wednesday night. I, apparently, was one of those people. 

I don't know what got into me. I was frustrated, angry, and just plain exhausted. I know I've tried for my entire life to disappear, but being invisible isn't fun. I was tired of not meaning anything. I was afraid. Not for my life, not this time. I was afraid of disappearing forever. I realized that when I died, eventually, it wouldn't mean anything to anyone. Pair that with the fact that I couldn't even properly get drunk thanks to my body chemistry and I was ready to do anything to find some sort of distraction. 

That's when I started talking to some douchebag who was too wasted for his own good- no it wasn't Bucky, relax, we'll get there- and he asked to buy me a drink. The entire time we were talking, he kept trying to feel me up which... I guess that was the whole point of me talking to a strange guy at a bar but it just felt wrong. 

So I was about to take a sip of the beer this douche had bought me when its grabbed out out of my hands suddenly. I spun around in my seat to face a man, all shadows and sharp features. He was wearing a baseball cap with strands of brown hair falling from it and a leather jacket, new and yet somehow so old.

"You know, for someone who was trying to drug a girl you should at least have learned to be a bit subtle. Now then, why don't you get out of here before the bartender brings the cops, hm?" The stranger wasn't even looking at me yet I was still frozen. He was staring the man down, still holding the glass so tightly I thought it might shatter in his grip. 

The man scampered away and the stranger set the glass back down on the bar. He glanced over to me, his jaw hard set and his eyes as cold as steel, "You should go home." 

I was shaking. I don't know why I was shaking. I had no reason to be afraid of some douche. Whatever drug he tried to give me probably wouldn't have worked anyways. But I was shaking. Being invisible didn't mean invincible. I felt vulnerable for the first time in a very long time. I didn't want to leave and walk home in the dark but I definitely didn't want to stay. I was afraid, and he saw it. He offered, or rather politely demanded to escort me home. I didn't turn him down. 

He asked if I had driven to the bar, and I tild him I hadn't. People in town hardly ever drove unless they were driving out of town. He lead me to a motercycle, old and barely held together, and handed me a helmet. He drove me home, which only took a few minutes since I lived so close to the bar. I could've told him that. I think I might've tried, but he didn't listen. Probably. I don't remember everything that was said or done, just how it felt. The vibrations beneath us, how firm his back was, how he smelled.  Hotel body wash and deodorant. 

When we reached my door, he turned to leave but I caught his arm, my eyes lifting to meet his. There was a silent understanding between us, and something in him changed. It was so noticeable. His expression softened, his eyes were haunted. I've always been good at reading people, but he went from being a block of foreign text to an open book in a second. 

I wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down until his lips colided with mine. It was over for both of us after that. He was my distraction and I seemed to be the only thing that could appease the ghosts he was struggling against. 

He pulled my shirt off in a matter of seconds and undid my bra faster than I ever could, discarding them both over his shoulder as his lips attacked my skin. My hands travelled down to the hem of his pants and began fidgeting with his belt buckle, but he stopped me, bringing his lips to my ear, "No. Not yet. You first." 

He lowered himself down my body until he was kneeling before me. "Please," he breathed, "Let me make you feel good. Let me do something good." 

\--

I paraphrased a bit, choosing to leave out most of our activities, but keeping what I thought was necessary to get my point across. 

"I think Bucky knew." I explained once I finished my story, "He knew he was supposed to kill me or capture me or... Or he knew he,was supposed to do something bad at the very least so he was trying to make up for it. Trying to prove to himself that the voice in his head was wrong and that he was still human." 

Steve pulled me closer. He needed the comfort, and I knew it, so I nestled my head right below his chin. 

"Do you regret it?" He asked suddenly. 

Yes. I wanted to say yes. I should've. Everything I had worked towards had been ripped away from me. My life was in danger. The answer should've been yes. 

"No. I couldn't hide forever. What I am would've caught up with me eventually. I can never regret how I felt that night. Or how I feel now." 

"How do you feel?"

I hated how easy the truth came out around Steve Rogers. I hated how I couldn't hide from him. I hated how much he acted like he cared. I hated how he made me feel so... So... 

"Safe." I replied, my voice coming out soft like I had been holding the word with my breath, then finally exhaled, "I feel safe with you. And I hate it because I shouldn't. After we find Bucky, it'll be over. I'll have to move towns and find somewhere else to hide out." 

"Nothing lasts forever." Steve spoke softly, "The end of the line is never where we expect it to be. Tomorrow holds no promises." 

I couldn't help but laugh, breaking whatever emotional trance we had been in, "Alright, Larson, no need to get all poetic on me." I smacked his chest playfully. 

"Sorry." Steve snorted, "Larson?" 

I set up, looking at him with raised eyebrows, "Jonathan Larson? Rent? 'No day but today'? You're telling me that in all of your catching up with modern day you never stumbled across Rent?" 

Steve shook his head, a confused smile on his face that was admittedly kind of adorable, "I'll add it to my list. In all seriousness though, as cheesy as it sounds I'm realizing more and more that I dont like the idea of tomorrows. I'm much more of a fan of todays." 

I nodded slowly, propping myself up so I could look at him while we spoke, "I get it. It's the effect of being in danger. Everyone gets tired if they run long enough. Even super soldiers. I think thats why Bucky and I slept together in the first place. So take it from me, the seasoned professional of flipping off tomorrow, indulge in today every once in a while. What does Today Steve want that Tomorrow Steve can't have?" 

The captain pushed himself up suddenly, his face coming inches from mine in under a second. Then he froze, hesitation clouding his eyes as he backed away slightly. He was always such an open book. 

We sat still for what felt like an eternity, our gazes locked together as we waited for the other to move. Finally, he shifted, and I expected him to lay back down or lean against the head rest. I was suprised by my own disappointment. But I felt a hand cover mine in a now familiar movement. There was no hesitation this time as I turned my hand and locked our fingers together. 

Before I could even blink, Steve's lips were pressed to mine. He was soft and hungry all at once, our mouths moving together.  
We stayed in that perfect moment for several minutes, the voice in the back of my head screaming at me to pull away. But as I usually did when it came to Steve, I didn't. 

Eventually he pulled away only slightly, leaving us both breathless. He rested his forehead against mine,  "I'm in love with Bucky." He whispered. 

I nodded, "I know." 

"I really like you." 

"I know." 

"I want you." 

This time it was me who connected our lips, throwing my leg over him so I was straddling his lap. The hand that had been holding mine circled my waist, pulling me closer as the other gripped my thigh, inching up further and further with every passing minute. Just as his fingers nearly reached my core, he took a detour and started moving up my side, pulling up my shirt as he went. He pulled away so he could get my top off, then immediately attacked the newly exposed skin, sucking and biting as he went with increasing hunger. 

I let my head roll back, by hips rolling a bit to urge him to go faster, "Please, Steve, enough with the preamble." 

He let out a noise between a loan and a growl and in an instant he had shoved me back a bit so he could slip my shorts and underwear off. Once I was completely naked, I helped him out of his boxers, pulling them down enough so his member sprang free, but not completely off so I wouldn't have to give up my position on top of him. Seconds later, I was sinking down onto him, my face buried in his neck. 

"Wait." He hissed, and I froze completely, "Condom?" 

"Unless you've got some supersoldier STD I should worry about, we're fine." I assured him. I wasn't able to have kids thanks to the way I was created. 

"Thank God." Steve whimpered, moving his hips upwards as my cue to move. I rose and fell on top of him, meeting his every thrust. Soon were were moving in a building rhythm , faster and faster as we were taken higher and higher. Then, without warning, Steve dipped his hand between us and began rubbing strong circles on my clit. I exploded, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He followed soon after, spilling into me with a groan.


	4. Chapter 4

Things were different between Steve and I after that night. We were more intimate with eachother. In a sexual sense, yeah, but also just in general. We had both realized how touch-starved we truly were, and found comfort in holding hands or leaning against eachother. 

It was odd to me. I had never been that intimate with anyone, and I had to constantly remind myself that with every mission I took, I was a little bit closer to not having Steve Rogers anymore. It hurt, as much as I tried to convince myself that it didn't. The truth was, Steve was in love with Bucky, and I was only there to help get him back and to also temporarily fill some emotional hole to keep us both sane. 

Yet, Steve had also become more protective. He still let me do what I needed to do to in order to get information, but he was more willing to pull me out if necessary. He was also very hesitant about sending me into situations that would require me to flirt too much. 

We were getting so close, though, I hardly ever turned anything down. We followed every lead we got, however meaningless. One path led straight to Dr. Harting. 

At first, the name meant nothing to me. It rang some distant bell, but I had ignored it. We discovered the hotel he was staying at in Vienna to attend to some "business", and made a plan. I would dress up, meet him in the hotel bar, and get him to let me into his room. It was simple. It was what I was trained to do. 

Finding him was easy enough. These people are hardly ever inconspicuous. He was a tall, lanky gentleman in a tan suit with small wire-rimmed glasses. He had whispy blonde hair, which was styled in a way that hid the thinning spots. He wasn't elderly by any means, only 50 at the most, but the amount of chemicals he's exposed to no doubt caused some negative physical effects. He was sitting at the bar, watching the TV screen overhead with a bored expression. Clutched in his hand was a glass of what looked to be bourbon.

I smoothed my dress, which was very low cut yet casual enough that I didn't seem like I had come to the bar for some special event. I purposefully avoided looking directly at him, sitting several seats away and focusing my attention on the older gentleman seated closer to me. He bought me a drink and I flirted shamelessly, laughing, touching his shoulder and thigh. Meanwhile, I could feel the eyes of my target locked on my back. 30 minutes in, the man I had been talking to offered to take me back to his hotel room. I declined and he got upset, just as I hoped he would. 

Exactly 30 seconds later, there was a voice suggesting that the man leave me alone. My knight in shining armor. I smiled as the man gave up and left, making sure he wouldn't interrupt before I turned to the doctor, "Thank you so much. That man was giving me the creeps." 

The doctor gave me what he thought was a charming smile, "The smile on your beautiful lips is thanks enough. That, and letting me buy you a drink." 

"I'll tell you what," I began, leaning towards him ever so slightly, "I'll let you buy me as many drinks as you want if you tell me your name." 

"Dr. Daniel Harting, and you are?" 

"Robin." I held out my hand for hin to shake, but he pressed a kiss to the back of my knuckles instead. "What sort of doctor are you? Medical?" 

"Of sorts. I'm a geneticist." 

I forced a look of pleasant suprise, "Really? My father had a doctorate in genetics as well! He wrote his thesis on human advancement. I grew up listening to his research." 

The doctor's expression shifted into one I couldn't read, "What a small world. Why don't we skip the drinks down here and head up to my room? I'd love to show you what I'm working on, if you don't mind listening to an old man's ramblings."

Warning bells in the back of my mind immediately began to ring. Every instinct I had developed for self preservation screamed at me to walk away. But I didn't. I couldn't. This man knew something important and I couldn't just give that up because I was nervous. I stood from the bar stool, placing my hand delicately into the crook of the doctor's arm. Somewhere, though I couldn't be sure where, Steve was watching. If I didn't come back down or send him a signal, he would come to get me. This calmed my nerves enough to allow Dr. Harting to lead me towards the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're about to hit a major tone shift, and theres going to be some jumping back and forth in time and switching points of view.

3rd Person

Steve didn't like this. He didn't like her exiting his sight with a suspected HYDRA scientist.  But its not like he could follow Robin to the hotel room and he knew her well enough to know she could fight for herself. All he could do was slump into his seat, his blue cap pulled low over his face and his nose buried in a book he definitely wasn't focusing on.  He couldn't help but think of the Intel they got on the doctor. 

Aside from the fact that he wrote a few papers on human genetics and advancements that got him flagged, he seemingly had no connection to HYDRA. Yet the files they had uncovered mentioned him over and over. He had to be connected to the Winter Soldier expiraments. Why else would HYDRA and SHEILD have such an interest in him? Unless it had been an execution order... Unless HYDRA wanted this man dead. But why? 

There was somdthing more to this whole thing, he knew there had to be. He could only pray Robin got out with information... Or got out at all. She was a tough girl, he knew that. But there had been one mission on a college campus where, while she made it out mostly unharmed, she forced Steve to make her a promise. 

A few weeks earlier  
Robin

It was the whistling that tipped me off. First, it was nothing. Just a little tune that lodged itself in the back of my head. But the more time I spent on the campus, talking to college girls about the mysterious attractive man who had passed through, the more I could feel it. It was like a tiny drill at the base of my skull, growing worse and worse. The whistling. The little tune. 

I couldn't find the source of it, though. It was everywhere. The fountain at the centre of campus, the coffee shop, the library, and the park. But there was no one who appeared in any two of the places, at least not that I could tell. And the whistling always seemed to be so close and yet far enough away that I couldn't track it. I grew agitated with every passing moment, with a throbing in my head that was driving me insane. It reached a crescendo in the park, though. The tune was so, so close. So loud. I felt dizzy and nauseous, and likely would've blacked out if I hadn't noticed the little girl on the park bench. She looked sweet enough. Blonde pigtails, pink dress, a doll cradled in her lap. The picture of innocence. But she was whistling. 

I approached her slowly,  not wanting to scare her off and definitely not wanting to arouse suspicion from anyone else in the rather crowded park. 

"I like your doll," I spoke gently as I neared her. 

The girl looked up at me, but didn't stop her whistling. It was worse, having it so close and so loud. I had to grip the edge of the bench to keep from collapsing. 

"That's a pretty song," I managed to force out, fighting the darkness at the edge of my vision, "What's it called?" 

At last, the tune stopped and, for the first time in hours I felt true relief. Like coming up for air after being held under water for so long. The little girl seemed unphased by my reaction as she answered the question I posed to her. 

"Snowfall." 

"What did you say? 

"The man said it was called Snowfall. He told me you would like it. Said it was a gift for you." 

I stumbled backwards and, as soon as my feet were back under me, I ran. Away from the girl and her doll. Away from the park. Away from the campus. I ran until Steve stopped me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into the car we had borrowed. 

"Drive." Was all I managed to choke out as soon as he had the door closed. 

"Robin? Are you alright?" 

I shook my head, curling up as tightly as i could in the seat as if that would stop the waves of nausea and the pounding in my head, more like a mallet now than a drill. 

Steve was smart enough to start the car rather than press me further, pausing only to reach across me and lean my seat backwards. It was partially so I could lay down but mainly so I would be hidden from people we passed. It wasn't until we had pulled to a stop near the motel we were staying at and we had gotten inside that he finally forced me to talk. 

"There's someone out there. Someone from the Snowfall Initiative. They know who I am. They know everything." I let out a shaking breath, forcing myself to recenter myself despite how much the room was spinning. "There's a song, Steve. A simple one. Inconspicuous. They used to play it over and over during trials and training. It was the soundtrack to every bit if torture we endured. They discovered that it worked like Pavlov's dogs. Instead of a bell signalling food, it was a melody signalling torture, and instead of salivating, I become someone else. A monster. One that follows any orders given. One without compassion. One that will rip a man apart." I gagged then, nearly puking all over the hideously carpeted room. 

Steve had been standing in front of me, not sure how close he could get to me since I had nearly broken his hand when he tried to help me from the car. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Everything that initiative built was burned. Everyone was burned. There were no survivors. Even if there were, I though they couldn't find me. I was so careful. If I had thought the song would've come back and I would be a risk to you, I would've told you but-" 

"You didn't know, and telling me would disclose a weakness. I understand." Steve spoke gently, trying to soothe me. 

In an instant, I was standing, and I had backed him against a wall. It had been purely instinct, suprising both Steve and myself. His eyes widened, but I made no further movements, simply staring him in the eyes as I formulated the words zipping through my brain into a coherent sentance. 

"I need you to promise me something, Captain. Something very important. Swear an oath to me right now, in the name of whatever you feel fit, that if I get captured. If this man finds me and there's no immediate chance for my escape or rescue, you'll kill me." 

"Robin-" 

"No. Not Robin. Not right now." I grabbed his hand, pressing his fingers to the jagged scar just behind my ear. A reminder of what I endured. "21753. The only successful specimen of the Snowfall Initiative. Trained to seduce, torture, and kill. Rutheless. Highly dangerous. An enemy. That's who I was, Steve. That's who they'll turn me into again if I'm caught. You cannot let me become that again. You cannot let me hurt anyone. You have to swear you'll kill me. Please." I felt a tear roll down my cheek, somehow boiling as it left its trail. 

"I promise." 

A few weeks later  
3rd Person

It was a vow he was familiar with. Plenty of boys in war would make mercy-kill pacts. Especially after Bucky amd his platoon had been rescued from the HYDRA base. Hell, Bucky had nearly forced Steve to take one, but Steve wouldn't hear it.  

Now, though, after he had seen the monster James Buchanan Barnes had become,at the hands of HYDRA, and how many lives had been lost, Steve was more receptive to the idea. He imagined Robin like that. Lifeless and bred to kill. It haunted him. So he had taken the vow, while making one of his own, he would never allow her to fall into enemy hands. He would keep her safe. Even after they found Bucky, he would get them both somewhere safe. He could do that. He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains semi-graphic depictions of violence. Reader is discretion is advised.

A scratch of a record player. A sharp pain in my neck and at my wrists. "You know, I considered being a composer in university. I was minoring in music theory. It's fascinating what music can do to the human mind." 

The world was bleary, fading in and out like the crescendos and decrescendos of a sweeping score. Harting was across the room, leaning against a coffee table as music began to pour through the record player next to him. 

"Maybe you should consider upgrading. Even CDs are outdated now. Maybe try MP3?" I croaked out, suprised by my own weary voice. 

"Hm, no, I quite like the sound of a record. Helps with the atmosphere. You should recognize this. It was your favorite when you were a kid. I wrote it just for you. Well, you and your siblings, of course. But you were the only one who stuck aroung long enough to truly appreciate it." 

I tried to stand up, but my wrists were firmly teathered to the chair beneath me. That would explain the pain. Hearting stood up fully, a warm smile spreading across his lips as if he were greeting an old friend. 

"Just look at you. How you've grown. A beautiful young woman. How long has it been? 10 years? Long enough to forget your own father."

 

Ten years ago 

The music blared over the loudspeakers, so loud it was also deafining the girl crouched in the middle of the circular room. Blood dripped from her cheek and shoulder onto the cement beneath her. She was younger. 20 or so. She knelt on the ground, her uninjured arm holding her up and a knife clutched in her other hand, soaked in blood that definitely wasn't her's. 

"Report." A voice spoke over the music. 

"Targets down. Minimal injury." The girl's voice rang out loud and clear. "Mission completed. Awaiting orders." 

"Stand." 

She forced herself to her feet, her mind too cloudy to feel the pain coursing through her. A door in front of her slid open with a large clang, and at last the music stopped. A man emerged from the darkness. He was tall, wiry, and blond, glasses perched on his slim face.  He approached the teenager, placing a pale hand on her wounded cheek. 

"Very good. I'm very proud of you." The man caressed the skin just below the gash, wiping away the blood that was drying there. The girl took a reflexive step back, a move she immediately regretted as she watched the man drop his hand back to his side, "When someone congratulates you, you should say thank you, do you understand?" 

"I understand." 

"Then what do you say?" He asked in a dangerously low and calm voice. 

"Thank you."

He stepped closer, "Thank you, what?" 

"Thank you, father." 

The man smiled, his hand lifting once more. But instead of caressing her cheek again, he sent a harsh backhand slap right across the already broken skin. The shock was enough to knock the wind out of her, but she remained standing. 

The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, calmly wiping the blood from his hand, "Clean yourself up. You have a lesson soon."

Present day

"Bastard." I spat out, "I'm not your child, you crazy fucker. I never was. I was your test subject." My head was pounding, all of my thoughts driven out and replaced with the melody. I struggled against my restraints. 

"Don't fight it. Its what you were born to be. You were never meant to live among normal people. They're weak, fragile, disposable. You are the future." The doctor had approached me at some point, and was now leaning close to my face. 

"You really think this is going to break me?" I managed to speak, though I wasn't really sure where the words came from,  "10 years and you think a song will turn me into your little doll again? I've broken out before, I'll do it again." God, why couldn't I ever shut up? That was probably one of the stupidest things I could've said. Never give the assailant reason to cause more pain. By telling him the music wouldn't work, which it already was, I just bought myself a one way ticket to torture town, and I had no cyanide capsule to get me out. Damn Captain America for not letting you keep one in the back of your mouth on missions. 

The doctor leaned back, an eyebrow raising, "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps this isn't enough. You're a grown woman now." He walked out of my field of vision, the world too foggy to see anything that wasn't within 5 feet in front of me. When he returned, I saw the glint of a needle moments before it was plunged directly into my neck. "This should be familiar." 

Pain. Pure pain. Like I was being torn apart from inside out. Every single nerve on fire, muscles contracting like I was being electrocuted. It felt like molten lava was spreading through my veins. My vision went completely white and, if I couldn't still hear the doctor's footsteps, I would've thought I was unconscious.

"HYDRA electrocutes their supersoldier. Barbarian, don't you think? I prefer a more... Elegant approach. If your body wasn't so resilient, that dose would've killed you. Aren't you lucky?" Suddenly, he was close again, his breath hot against my cheek, "Growth through suffering." 

Then, he was gone. The music got louder, but the doctor simply disappeared and I was alone, my body in pain but my mind dark and empty with only one thought left: where was Steve? 

 

2 hours with no word from Robin. No signal, no sight of her, nothing. With every minute that passed, he grew increasingly nervous and by the time the timer on his watch began to beep, he was ready to run upstairs and tear the hotel door off its hinges. He remained calm, though as closed his book, stretched a bit, and casually headed through the lobby towards the elevator. In his nonchalant act, he hadn't noticed the man standing in the corner of the elevator, eyes locked firmly on him, nor had he noticed when the man got off on the same floor. It wasn't until he neared the doctor's room that a gloved hand reached out and grasped his wrist that Steve finally turned, locking eyes with -

"Bucky-" 

"The girl isn't in there. He took her to the roof. He had transportation there. They're gone." 

"Bucky what are you-" 

"I know where they went. She isn't safe." 

"Neither are you. There are men out there who want you dead. I can get you somewhere safe if you come with me." 

"Safe?" Bucky, or what was left of him, at least, asked, "Safe like the girl? The one you lost while you were looking for me? Why were you looking for me? Why can't you just let me disappear? Do you understand what will happen to that woman?" 

Steve took a careful step forward, not wanting to set him off, "You said you knew where he took her. We'll get her back. You and me." 

"Then?"

"We clear your name."


	7. Chapter 7

It had been 2 months since Steve went completely off the grid. 2 months since he walked away from the accords to hunt down the Winter Soldier and marked himself as a fugitive. Sam had started to wonder if he had gotten himself killed. He was hiding out in Dresden, trying to lay low so he didn't have Tony Stark and his little posse coming after him too. He hated it in Dresden. He hated sitting on his ass ans not doing anything. Then came the call from an unkown number. 

"Did I ever tell you about my summer in Vienna?" The voice on the other end of the phone asked as soon as Sam answered. 

He recognized the voice instantly. Captain fucking America. Part of him felt relief: Steve was still alive and still needed his help. The other, smaller part of him was mad at him for leaving in the first place. 

"You're lucky I have long-distance coverage. Did you find your boy yet?" 

There was a short pause, "Sorta. How fast can you get here?" 

Sam did the math in his head. Dresden to Vienna wasn't too far.  Around 150 kilometers. If he took a few risks... "1 hour max." 

"Get here sooner. Its an emergency." With that, Steve hung up and Sam was left with silence. Of course there was no explanation. There never was with any of the "superheroes" he had met so far. He suited up anyways, of course. Anything to get him out of Dresden.

It took exactly 45 minutes for him to get to Steve in the middle of an empty field in Vienna. When he landed, he was shocked to see the Winter Soldier standing right next to him. He had obviously assumed that the emergency had something to do with James, but there he was, not fighting. Steve wasted no time in bothering to explain why Sam was there or what they were doing. He simply gave the orders to survey a warehouse in the middle of the field and take care of the doctor. Not that Sam knew who the doctor was, but he sensed that Steve wasn't in the mood to answer questions. 

In his time of knowing the Captain, Sam had never seen him act so... Captain-like. During missions, Steve always had some calm air to him. He always had some joke hidden away that he could pull out to ease the tension. Even in his most serious moments, he was still soft. But the man giving Sam orders was not soft. Whatever they were trying to accomplish was important. Sam cursed himself for not flying faster. 

 

123 loops of the song. The song was 3.45 minutes. Awaiting orders. No commanding officer in sight. Bonds are too strong to break. 124 loops of the song. 4 possible weapons in the room. Needle, pipe, rope, record player. No damage may be brought to the record. 3 possible weapons in the room. 125 loops of the song. Footsteps. Soft-soled shoes. Even pacing. The doctor's footsteps. Arrival in 5 seconds. 

"Report." 

Commanding officer recognized, "Injury in right and left wrists, puncture wounds in neck. Minimal. Awaiting orders." 

"Very good. See? Doesn't that feel so much better? No more running. No more worrying." 

Incoming aircraft on the right of the building. Approaching quickly. No visuals on the craft. 

"Eyes on me. You will find and eliminate Captain America. Leave no evidence. No one can know you exist." 

Order recieved and understood. Aircraft continuing approach at higher velocity. It's quiet. Meant for stealth. Military. But small. Point of impact estimated to be the covered window on the far right wall. Continue to hold visual contact with the doctor. The doctor is unaware of the incoming aircraft. Impact in 10 seconds.. 5 seconds.. 

 

Sam curled himself into a ball last minute, leaning forward so he went wings-first, smashing through the blacked-out glass. There were only two people in the room. A man who's appearance screamed evil doctor, and a girl strapped to a chair, drenched in sweat. She looked like she had just walked directly through hell, but her expression was blank and cold. Sam didn't have time to contemplate the girl as he swooped in directly towards the doctor, who had managed to release one of his captive's arms before Sam got a hold of him. 

The girl used her freed hand to rip open the bonds on her other wrist, ignoring the heavy bruising around it. 

"Stay back!" Sam yelled, "I got this!" 

But she didn't stay back, instead she tood a running leap at him, which he barely managed to dodge as he dragged the doctor back towards the window he had just slammed through. Just as she was about to follow him through the window, the door on the other side of the room was kicked open so hard, it hung halfway off the hinges. 

"Robin!" Steve called, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" 

He began to run towards her, but Bucky stuck his hand out to stop him, "Don't. The music." 

Thats when Steve heard it. The record player crooning out the same song over and over. Simple. Inconspicuous. He studied the girl by the window who had turned to face them. The way she stood. The way she looked at him. 

"Robin..." 

She cocked her head slightly, "Who the hell is Robin?" 

"Do you know who I am?" 

"Yes." 

Steve let out a sigh of relief, taking a careful step forward, despite Bucky's protests. 

"You're Captain America," 

"That's right." 

"You're my target." 

Before either men could react, Robin, or whatever the doctor had turned her into dove to her right, grabbing a pipe from the floor and throwing it. Not at Steve or Bucky, but at the single light hanging above them. It shattered, sending sparks and glass flying to the floor and drowning the room in darkness. The only light left was the minimal moonlight from the broken window, and that offered very little illumination. Though the soldiers' eyes adapted quickly to the darkness, Robin was already out of sight. 

"I know her." Bucky muttered as he scanned the room. 

"You slept with her." Steve replied. 

"No, I mean I-" 

He was cut off when a figure lept down from the exposed pipes in the ceiling and latched her legs around Steve's neck, the combined shock and weight sending him to the ground. She knelt on top of him, a rope clutched in ther hands which she attempted to get around Steve's throat. He managed to get his legs underneath her, though, and sent her flying with one strong kick. She hit the cement  wall with what sounded like a crack, but she got up again after only a second. 

"Robin, stop, I don't want to fight you." Steve pleaded. 

She didn't stop, of course. She charged at him, sending punch after punch. Rutheless. The hits she managed to land were surprisingly strong, and she was able to block most of Steve's returning attacks. She was, in every sense of the word, a skilled fighter. 

Something clicked in the back of Bucky's mind as he watched, unable to do anything else without getting in the way. A memory. A distant one of this same girl, covered in blood and sweat and dirt staring at him. Not attacking, not doing anything, just waiting. Then, he saw the scar behind her ear, concealing a tattoo.

"Her number! What's her number?" Bucky yelled suddenly. 

"Why does that matter?" Steve asked, "I didn't exactly memorize her phone number." 

Bucky didn't have time to explain before the string of numbers spilled from his lips entirely by instinct. "Два один семь пять три! Внимание!" 

She froze, her body going completely rigid as she turned to face Bucky, her hands folding behind her back, "Жду заказов, солдат." 

"What the hell?" Steve whispered, still trying to catch his breath, "How did you do that?" 

Bucky didn't respond. Instead, he approached a metal table in the corner, his eyes scanning the several tools and syringes laying there. He picked one up, filled with a clear liquid, and approached the motionless girl. 

"Вольно. Я прошу прощения." He mumbled against her ear before he plunged the needle into her. As soon as the syringe was empty, she collapsed against him, completely unconscious. 

Bucky scooped her up into his arms and approached Steve, "Take her. Get her somewhere safe." He dropped the girl into the captain's arms, who was still standing in total confusion. 

"You're coming too, right?" 

"No. I helped her because I got her into this mess. Not because of you. I don't know you." 

"Yes you do. We were best friends. You pulled me out of that river. Why would you do that if you don't know who I am?" 

"I don't know. If I figure it out, I'll find you. But until then, she's the one you need to worry about." Then, Bucky Barnes turned and walked away. Steve didn't follow him, and instead looked down at Robin who was still unconscious in his arms. Beaten and bruised, most of which was caused by Steve in self defense. 

All of this, he felt, was caused by him. He didn't even know her name and he was dragging her around the world, forcing her into right dresses and dangerous situations. He had failed her when he swore he would keep her safe. Now, where could he take her? Who could he trust when he had walked out of the accords and left behind everyone who could help him? 

Well, almost everyone. 

This was going to be a very awkward phone call. 

 

Cold. No, hot. Very hot. Everything hurts. Alright, mental checklist. Can I move? Fingers, yes, toes, yes, arms... No. Chains? Shit. Doctor. Its the doctor, isn't it? He was there? The burning. Its him. Have to get out. Have to escape. 

"Hey, hey, hey, its okay, you're safe." 

I force my eyes open, coming face to face with a man I didn't recognize. He was older. Not old, just older. His features were soft, with vibrant eyes full of concern. 

"I'm sorry about the handcuffs, I just... Better safe than sorry, right? My name is Clint Barton. Can you tell me your name?" 

I looked at my surroundings, half expecting some sort of hospital room. But instead, I was just in a normal bedroom, soft sunlight streaming through the blinds. The bed beneath me was extremely comfortable, and though my wrists were chained down, there was fabric between my skin and the metal to keep my already wounded arms safe.

"You can call me Robin. Its what Steve calls me." 

The man... Clint let out a soft sigh of relief, "You remember Steve? What else can you remember." 

"Everything. Except for what happened when I... Broke. That's a bit hazy. How long has it been?" 

"2 days. You've been in and out of consciousness but apparently it was just your body trying to get rid of everything you had been injected with. You should be in the clear now, though aside from some lasting side effects that could take a little while to go away." 

That would explain the fever and the constant ache. "Where's Steve?" 

Clint cleared his throat, reaching for a ring of keys attached to his belt. He undid my bonds and carefully, obviously not wanting to make me uncomfortable, helped me sit up, "There was an incident in Vienna." 

"Yeah, I know, I was there." 

"No, after Steve brought you here. There was a huge international meeting to draw up the Sakovia Accords for the Avengers. It was bombed. The authorities believe that the Winter Soldier is the one who did it." 

"No, there's no way. Bucky isn't under Hydra's control anymore. He was with Steve when he rescued me, I remember that. I remember him there." 

Clint reached behind him to a nightstand, picking up a large envelope which he promptly handed to me, "Steve believes it was a setup to force James out of hiding. He's in Bucharest now to find him, but he brought this by before he left. He said James gave it to him to give to you." 

I tore open the top of the envelope and dumped the contents out onto the bedspread. There were several pieces of a record which had been completely destroyed and a note. 

'Happy Spring.  
-J.B.B' 

It was the doctor's record. The one he used on me during training. The one he played while he tortured me into submission. The one that I swore would play as the soundtrack to my death some day. Snowfall was officially over. It was finally spring. I felt the tears at the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment as I picked up a piece of the broken vinyl. I looked up at Clint, who was watching me in respectful silence. He didn't ask what it meant, or why Bucky sent it to me. He just let me have my moment. 

"Thank you. I'm sorry Steve dumped me on you. I shouldn't be your problem." 

"Look, kid, Steve told me how you wound up with him. You were just trying to get out and live a normal life. I've been there. I'm there now, that's what this is." He opened his arms to motion to everything around us, "You're safe here. I have a wife who's been helping me take care of you and some great kids. There's plenty of work to be done around the house to keep you busy if you get restless. Until this whole thing blows over, this is your home if you want it to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know I don't leave these often but this is one of those times when I genuinely need feedback from y'all. So this is tagged as a reader-insert because Robin doesn't technically have a name, it's just what steve calls her and I've strayed from any physical descriptions of her. But I have the opportunity here to shift it into a proper reader-insert with the whole 'y/n' thing with this next chapter. Do y'all want that? Or would you prefer she stayed as Robin? Let me know! 
> 
> Translations:  
> (Some of these are incorrect) 
> 
> "Два один семь пять три! Внимание!" - 21753, Attention! 
> 
> "Жду заказов, солдат." - Waiting for orders, soldier.
> 
> "Вольно. Я прошу прощения" - At ease. I am sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

Clint hadn't been kidding when he said there would be plenty for me to do around the house. At my request, he gave me a list of jobs, making it clear that they definitely weren't required for me to stay there. But he understood that I couldn't just... Not do anything. I refloored the sunroom, which quickly became my favorite room in the house as soon as it was finished. There were huge windows in front of which sat a plush couch that was easy to curl up into. I found myself spending a lot of time sitting in there with whatever book Clint decided I should read. 

I also took to gardening with Clint's wife, Laura. We became close friends almost instantly. I was a little worried, at first, that she would dispise me for interrupting her normal life. But instead, she took me in, understanding that, like her husband, I didn't exactly have a choice when it came to the life I was living. Though she wasn't that much older than me, she quickly became a mother figure of sorts. She took it upon herself to teach me domestic things I was never taught due to a lack of proper parents and a life spent in hiding. Gardening, cooking, sewing, and first aid that covered injuries outside of gunshot and blade wounds. 

In fact, the entire family became invested in teaching me things once they learned how little of normal life I knew. Clint taught me how to build so I could help with his ongoing home upgrades he insisted on making. He also taught me how to use sign language after he revealed to me that he was mostly deaf. While he usually used an advanced hearing aid SHEILD created for him, he often turned it off while at home since it had the habit of giving him headaches and he just genuinely saw no use for it. He could read lips and speak clearly in response, and everyone in the household knew ASL.

The kids started to catch me up on current and past trends I might've missed. As much as their parents saw me as an adopted daughter, they saw me as an older sibling. In exchange for their lessons, I told them stories about people I met on my travels while I was in hiding. I had discovered that I actually really enjoyed story telling. In fact, I discovered a lot of creative hobbies I enjoyed. Poetry, art, music. Anything I could get my hands on, really. I was finally allowed to explore my talents outside of combat and seduction. And Clint and Laura were more than eager to indulge me. In fact, they were proud. For the first time in my entire life, I had a proper family.

As happy as I was, there was part of me that was just... Too restless. I threw myself into the renovation jobs and chores that required heavy physical activity. Clint began to take notice of it after a while. He finally approached me about it after I nearly broke the axe while I was chopping wood. I was just having one of those moments where everything became too much all at once, and in my frustration I swung the axe down too hard, splitting the log clean in half and lodging the blade into the stump beneath it.

"Woah there," I heard Clint call as he swung open the screen door, "What'd that wood ever do to you?" 

I stumbled backwards, staring wide eyed at the destruction I had just caused, "Shit, I... I'm really, really sorry. I just got a little antsy and... God, I didn't mean to loose control like that." 

Clint remained silent for a moment before heading back inside, motioning for me to follow him. He lead me through the house to a locked closet which contained all of his gear. The door was one of the only things in the house, aside from the kitchen appliances, that was technologically advanced. It required biometric recognition to unlock it, done via an eye scanner that only had Clint and Laura's eyes coded into it. It was less for protection from theft and more to keep the children away from weapons for their own safety. 

Clint opened the door and, after a bit of digging, produced a plain long bow and a quiver filled with regular arrows. He handed them to me, then reached back inside the closet to grab his own more advanced bow and arrows. 

"Have I ever told you why a bow is my weapon of choice?" He asked.

"Because it's quiet? Perfect weapon for an assassin." I guessed, following as his locked up the closet and headed back outside.

"No. Well... Yes, but I'm trying to impart a life lesson here so just humor me." 

"Okay then.... No, Clint, you've never told me why a bow is your weapon of choice. Please impart your wisdom onto me." I deadpanned. 

He shot me a look somewhere between I'm trying not to give you the satisfaction of making me laugh' and ' I'm a trained assassin with a highly advanced weapon and you have a curvy stick and a bag of pokey sticks' so I shut up, giving him a small grin instead, which he returned. 

"A bow isn't a violent weapon. It's precise. It allows it's user to have some semblance of control. I've used my fair share of guns, yes. They're effective and quick. But that," he nodded towards the wooden now in my hand, "That's a choice. You choose how much damage you're going to inflict. Its not about how big or powerful it is. Its about how I fire it. Control. Not blind violence." 

He led me into the fast field surrounding their home. Buried in the miles upon miles of nothing, there were feed sacks filled with hay set up as targets, as well as some black disks scattered all over the place. Clint explained that they were holographoc targets sent to him by SHEILD, but he rarely used them unless he was training for actual combat, which we weren't. 

I knew how to fire a bow. I was an expert marksmen with several other weapons, how hard could a plain old long bow be? Judging by my first try, which sailed directly over the target, it was a lot harder than I thought. 

"Focus, Robin. Try again." 

I did try again. And again, and again. Clint was extremely patient, adjusting the way I pulled back the string and my stance, but I still missed over and over. Sometimes I would get so close, but the next attempt would be even further away. I was growing insanely frustrated, and Clint could tell. 

"I don't get it!" I growled out finally, "What am I doing so wrong?" 

"You're not aiming." Clint replied calmly, not phased by my growing anger.

"What the fuck do you mean? Of course I'm aiming!" 

He sighed, "No, you're not. You're staring at your target and firing blind. The arrow doesn't just go where you want it to because you're looking at what you want to hit."

"That's what you do!" 

"I've been shooting a bow for longer than you've been alive, kid. I've built up muscle memory through years of practice. Tell me, do you dance?" 

"No, not really." 

"So if I showed you a recording of Swan Lake and then asked you to perform it, could you?"

I sighed, understanding the point he was trying to make, "No, of course not." 

"Exactly. Basics first. Look at your target," He set his sights down the feild, "Recognize how far away from it you are. Think of how an arrow arches, the path it takes while its in flight. Now you raise your bow and prepare to compensate for that arch. Aim accordingly. Now you draw and," he let the arrow fly, "Fire." Of course he hit his mark, exactly in the center of the target.  He turned to me, "Now you." 

I did exactly what he told me, forcing myself to relax as I got into position. Look, recognize, aim... I let out a breath, taking my time to aim properly. Once I was confident, I pulled back the string nd released. The arrow sailed and, after what felt like an eternity, buried itself into the canvas sack. It was still slightly off from where it was supposed to be, but the fact that I hit the target at all was huge progress. I looked over at Clint, expecting the stone-faced demeanor he had kept during the training session, but insted I found him beaming with pride. 

Next thing I knew, he had wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug and, despite my suprise, I hugged him back. "Good job, kiddo. I'm very proud of you."  

I could hear the doctor's voice echoing in the back of my mind. Those exact words, but spoken with venom and more pride for himself than me. Clint's voice was genuine and warm.  He spoke to me with the same tone I had heard him speaking to his kids with. Overwhelming care.  

When he finally pulled away, I saw his eyes cloud with concern, "Hey, are you alright?" 

"Of course I am. Why?" 

"You're crying." 

I reached a hand up to my cheek. Sure enough, I caught a tear rolling down my skin, "I just... With everything that happened, it knocked free a few memories from... Before and I... I remembered my training. Or part of it, at least. They threw three men into the pit with me like I was some... Wild animal and I killed them. I didn't know who they were or what they had done but the order came and I complied." I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing, "I get these scenes now. Random memories triggered by such small things. A phrase, a smell..." 

"You endured major ammounts of trauma, Robin. And it sounds like you've been supressing those memories, and that's okay. But there'll come a time when you gotta face that part of you. It doesn't have to be now, but it has to happen. I still get nightmares about when I was under Loki's control. What I did to people. It doesn't just go away. And you can't face those demons on your own, either." He paused, looking at the bow in my hand, then back up to me, "I'll tell you what, every day, we'll come out here and continue with archery lessons, and in return you tell me a story. Just... Whatever you're willing to tell me. It can be about Snowfall, your life in hiding, whatever you want. Deal?" 

I thought about it for a moment. How much more of myself was I truly willing to reveal? I looked down the range at the arrow embeded in the target. Control. That's what Clint was offering me. He wasn't just looking for a way to get inside of my head, he was giving me a chance to explore it myself. 

"Okay." I spoke finally, my voice barely above a whisper, "Let's do it." 

Just as Clint said, we returned to that same spot every single day to shoot, and then to talk. I started with basic stories first. What I did after Snowfall burned, how I made money. I told him about my first job at a horrible chicken restaurant where they made us say horrible catch phrases and made us memorize every bit of decor in the restaurant for no apparent reason. I also told him about the time I spent working for a web start-up company with an insanely rich old man who reminded me of Scrooge Mcduck. 

As time went on, though, I slowly started telling him what I could remember from before my training. My 'siblings', who all died until I was the only one left. The expiraments they did on me. 

It was one week after we started this whole routine when Clint asked me a question I hadn't been prepared for. 

"Steve told me that when you were... Under the doctor's control, you took orders from James. He was the one who broke you out of it. Do you know why he could do that?" 

I thought back to that moment, Bucky's voice in my ear, whispering an apology to me before he plunged a needle into my neck. "I honestly don't know. He shouldn't have been able to. I was never a HYDRA soldier." 

"You've said that you think Bucky sought you out because he had previously been given an order to find and kill you. Do you think that there's another reason?" 

I shrugged, "Could be. Maybe we-" 

My voice broke off as I was hit with a memory. Bucky speaking to me in russain the way he had when they rescued me. But we weren't in that room. We were somewhere else. Outside, in the snow. There was a fire blazing behind him. I was injured, or frozen in fear, or possibly both as I lay immobile in the snow. 

"Вставай."

I complied, scrambling to my feet and standing before him. He removed a knife from his hip and walked towards me, but I didn't move. I couldn't. I didn't even flinch when I felt the blade against my neck or when pain coursed through me as my skin was sliced open. I believed he was killing me, but I didn't fight back. His motions were slow and careful, not violent. After a moment, he dropped the knife and pressed his flesh hand to the wound, using his metal one to tear a bit of the strong fabric of his uniform, which he used to replace his hand. I wasn't dead and he was... Trying to keep me from bleeding out from the wound he had just created? 

"Идти." He ordered. When I didn't move, he pushed me slightly, "You're free." 

"Свободно? Миссия не выполнена. Завершите миссию, солдат." 

"Миссия выполнена. Снегопад уничтожен. 21753 уничтожено." He touched his neck, indicating the area he had cut me. It was where my tattoo with my identification number and tracker was. "Go. Run. Please." 

After one look in his pleading eyes, so soft they were unfamiliar to me, I did run. I left behind the building I grew up in and the Winter Soldier, who I apparently knew quite well, and I ran. 

I told Clint all that I was remembering, my fingers brushing over the scar on my neck subconsciously. He didn't say anything, just kept his hand rested gently on my shoulder while I talked to keep me grounded.

"I always thought it was the woman who set the fire and helped me escape. But it was the Winter Soldier. It was Bucky." 

"Do you think HYDRA sent him to burn the place down to get rid of the Snowfall initiative?" 

I shrugged slightly, "I guess that would make sense. But why would he spare me if he didn't even know who I was? And why was I trying to convince him to kill me?" 

Before Clint could say anything more, his phone began to vibrate in his back pocket. He looked at me apologetically before pulling it out and answering it. 

"Barton... Steve? Where are you?" He stood up, walking a few paces away from me, "Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Dragging them into this? Okay. If you're sure, then I'm with you." He glanced back at me, pausing as he listened to whatever Steve was saying, "I'll ask." 

With that, he hung up and returned to where we were sitting, "That was Steve." 

"I gathered that, yeah." 

"There's a... Lot happening out there, apparently. He needs to get Bucky to an old Hydra base, but the members of the Avengers who signed the Sokovia accords still believe that Bucky blew up the building in Vienna. Steve believes theres going to be a fight and... Well he wants us to help." He sighed, locking eyes with me, "It's your decision. You don't have to go. Most of them don't even know you exist." 

"I refuse to kill anyone." I spoke firmly, "If I fight, I won't kill." 

"Well, we're hoping to come out with no casualties on either side. These people we'd be fighting were my friends. I fought alongside them. All we have to to is slow them down enough to let Bucky and Steve escape." 

I knew I should've said no. I knew they could probably handle it alone. Besides, like Clint said, Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers didn't even know I existed, and by fighting them, I was throwing away any chance of being able to slip into a quiet life. But I thought about Steve and Bucky and everything they had done for me. The times they've had to save me like a damsel in distress. This was my opportunity to save them for once. That's why, despite every logical reason to not go and to remain out in hiding with Clint's family, I smiled. 

"I'm going to need some gear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Вставай. - Stand
> 
> Идти- Go
> 
> Свободно? Миссия не выполнена. Завершите миссию, солдат - Free? Mission not complete. Complete the mission, soldier.
> 
> Миссия выполнена. Снегопад уничтожен. 21753 уничтожено. -Mission complete. Snowfall destroyed, 21753 destroyed.


	9. Chapter 9

As it turns out, never having a chance to fight with the Avengers had 1 major drawback: I didn't get any of the cool stuff they had. It immediately put me at a disadvantage. Even though I had strength that matched Steve and Bucky as well as certain speed advantages, Steve had his shield and Bucky had his arm. In fact, everyone aside from Natasha Romanov had something to aid them. But I had no equipment. I didn't even have any clothing that was appropriate for the battle. Not that I was ever one for clothes, but I couldn't exactly take on a group of the most powerful people on earth in jeans and a flannel shirt.

Clint must've recognized this too because as soon as we got back to the house to pack, he dove into his closet and pulled out some of his older uniforms. "I don't know how well any of these would fit but... It's worth a shot. 

I picked up a leather vest that was bright pink and purple and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"What? It was cool back in the day." He shrugged defensively. I dropped the vest back into the bed and ran my hands along the different fabrics, stopping when I came to a brown and black jacket with a large rip in the lapel. "The SHIELD logo used to be right there." He explained, "I ripped it off after the HYDRA files leaked." 

I tossed that one back down as well and kept digging. Just before I was about to give up, a mass of dark purple fabric was flung towards me, which I managed to catch despite my surprise, "That one's a bit of a prototype. Self-healing fabric. It's sturdy but lightweight enough that you can move in it. Shouldn't be a problem with the fit, either. It's meant to conform to the body of the wearer. I'm just a bit too old-school for it. And there's these," he held up what looked to be fingerless gloves, "They're not great for shooting, but they can absorb the energy from any blows and reroute it." 

I slipped off my flannel shirt and slipped on the jacket over my tank top. It felt loose in the shoulders and too tight in other places, but as soon as I zipped it up, the fabric began to shift and tighten around me until it was practically like a second skin. Still oddly fitting in a few places just because of the drastic difference between Clint and I, but I was definitely still able to move in it without worrying about it getting away. Next, the gloves which fit like... Well, a glove. I borrowed some pants from Laura, definitely not as high-tech as the rest of my ensemble but they were comfortable. 

It felt a little odd getting all suited up and then climbing into a regular silver Subaru. Clint explained that we wouldn't be driving for long, only until we reached an airfield where there was a Quinjet waiting, but still, the hour it took to get there was so surreal. I found myself talking about things I never thought I would discuss. 

"I feel like I should have a name." 

"You do, right? You chose Robin. I mean, you could change it, if you wanted to." 

I shook my head, "No, I mean... Like a codename. Like Captain America or Hawkeye. I just feel a little... Exposed. Besides, Robin feels a bit too... Sidekick-y to use in the field." 

"Alright... What about Songbird?" 

"Between you and Sam, I think there are enough birds." 

The conversation continued on like that for nearly half an hour before we decided on Lady Echo.

"Isn't that a bit... Hippy-era?" Clint asked when I suggested it.

"If Steve can get away with Captain America, I should be able to get away with Lady Echo. Besides, there's an old legend about a girl named Echo who was cursed to only be able to speak the words that were last spoken to her. She fell in love with Narcissus but because of her curse, she was kept from him and forced to watch him fall in love with himself and waste away." 

Clint laughed, "I take it back. At least yours has some history to it." 

When we reached the Quinjet, I watched as Clint began to chart our course, "I thought we were going to Germany?" 

"We are. But we have to pick up a few things first." 

Those 'few things' turned out to be two people. The first was a girl who was introduced to me as Wanda. She seemed a little shaken up when Clint returned to the jet with her in tow, and really didn't even notice me until Clint spoke up and introduced us. After the awkward first greetings, we slowly began to warm up around each other. 

"I like the jacket." She said, her voice tinted with an accent I was all-too-familiar with. 

I motioned to Clint, "It's his. Being in hiding for ten years and joining the side without the billionaire tech genius means I get the hand me downs. I actually hate the color purple." 

"Well, you can tell Steve that next time he puts a team together, we need to recruit a fashion designer," Clint called from the front of the jet.

"Where to next?" I called back. 

The answer was apparently a normal condo on a normal street. Clint landed the Quinjet a few blocks away, and I settled into a seat, fully prepared to have to wait while we went to go get whoever we were picking up as he did with Wanda. But instead, after a brief explanation that I would be the only one who's face wasn't plastered all over the news, I found myself trekking down a dark street. I had taken off Clint's jacket, so I was left with my tank top which, although comfortable and perfect for the warm air, gave me a more menacing look than was probably appropriate for my surroundings.

When I found the address I had been given, I rang the doorbell and waited. Then I rang it again and waited some more. Then again. After the 5th ring with no response, I did the logical and sensible thing and picked the lock. 

"Mr. Lang?" I called as I swung open the door, "Mr. Lang, I'm here with... A taxi for you." 

There was still no answer, so I headed up the stairs, "Mr. Lang, the meter's running and all of the passengers have a flight to Germany to catch." 

After looking around in the kitchen and living room, I came to a closed door which presumably led to the bedroom. Fully expecting to be attacked by whoever this guy was since I technically broke into his house, I opened the door slowly. 

Instead of an ambush, I was met with a man snoring softly on his bed, music softly playing from the headphones he was wearing. This was who we were taking with us to Germany? Talk about a rag-tag team. 

It took a few solid kicks to the bed to jolt the man awake. "Strange woman standing at the edge of my bed? Honestly not the worst thing to wake up to. Considering I'm still alive, you're either really bad at your job or-" 

"You have a flight to catch, Mr. Lang." 

He nodded, "Sam sent you. I didn't expect you to be here so early." 

I glanced at the clock on his nightstand, "It's midnight. Sam told you we were coming today, didn't he?" 

He glanced over at it, wincing, "He did, and I swear I had an alarm set for 10. I must've slept through it.

"And someone breaking into your house." 

The man slid out of his bed and knelt down yanking a case out from underneath it. He set it up on the mattress, then began to dig through a laundry basket until he found a t-shirt and some jeans. He held them for a moment, staring awkwardly at me. 

"Are you- are you going to just stand there?" He asked slowly.

I realized what he was probably trying to do. Despite feeling somewhat flustered, I gave him a cold look, just because it was kind of fun to see how intimidated he was by me, and headed back towards the bedroom door, "2 minutes, Mr. Lang." The scrambling I heard as soon as I closed the door was priceless. 

"Who are you, anyway?" I heard him call. 

"You can call me Lady Echo," I called back. 

"Lady Echo? Really? Are you a superhero or an early 2000s grunge artist?" 

"Like you're one to talk, Ant-Man. Gee, I wonder what your skill is. Hurry up." 

He swung open the bedroom door, now fully dressed and carrying the metal case from under his bed. "What about Nightingale? That has an edgy, mysterious feeling to it." 

"What is with you superheroes and birds?" 

I led Scott out of his home and down the block, keeping up a quick pace that required him to almost jog. Once we reached the jet, we took off towards Germany. Scott almost immediately fell asleep, while Wanda kept herself busy by looking over the gear that was left in the jet. 

"Hey, Robin, look." She held up a black mask meant to cover the bottom half of someone's face, "You should wear this." 

I laughed, "What, is my face not pretty enough to be seen with you?" 

"No! No, definitely not that. But, if there are cameras and news reporters... I know what it's like to have my face plastered over the media for all to see. You have the chance to prevent that from happening." She tossed it to me, "You have a chance of walking away from this free." 

I discovered once I put the mask on that the material was similar to the one my jacket was made from. It tightened firmly around my jaw to keep from falling off, but I could still speak quite easily with it. Wanda was right, this was my first public fight, and I was essentially marking myself as a fugitive. If I was caught by Tony Stark or anyone else, I would never be free from the cages and the labs, and even if I was I'd be under someone else's control. A weapon for them to use whenever and however they wanted. But, I'm still essentially invisible. All records of me burned with the Snowfall initiative, and legally, I only existed as a paid intern for a failing web company. 

As long as I got out without getting captured, I was free.

We landed just outside of Germany in the middle of nowhere and acquired a van which, due to my nonexistent status in any database, I was tasked with driving. "Why don't Steve and Bucky just use that jet?" I asked, "Seems like we're going through an awful lot of trouble to get them transportation when we already have some." 

"That jet's tagged. It always has been. I have clearance to fly it because I'm officially retired, but the moment we touched down on foreign soil, they'll have an eye on it. The jet Steve and Bucky are after is clean. They'll be off the grid in it." 

As we neared the border, I began to grow worried that, since I had absolutely no identification, I wouldn't be allowed through. Luckily, the border was only locked down in search of any known advanced humans, I made it through without anyone even giving me a second glance. I was so unremarkable, I was invisible. Who knew being average could be a superpower? 

Once we were through the border, Clint directed me to an empty parking garage right next to an airport.

“Now what?” I asked. 

“Now we wait. They’re still a while out. You should get some rest.” Clint replied, climbing up to the front seat. 

I turned the van off and moved to the back with Scott, who was fast asleep. Wanda moved up to talk with Clint, leaving me alone. I hated waiting. It gave me far too much time to think. Even if we won this. Even if we got away, where would we go? I could walk away from Steve and Bucky and go back to being invisible in some small town, but would I really be able to survive that? I saw what happened when I was staying with Clint. I got restless. Antsy. But the last thing I wanted was to just be tagging along with the super soldiers. They had a childhood together. A history. I only had a few months with Steve and a few years I could barely remember with Bucky, but neither of us was ourselves then. What reason did they have to keep me around? 

“They’re here,” Clint called back. I sunk further into my seat, taking a moment to recollect myself as Barton and Wanda got out to greet the arriving trio. This was my first time seeing Steve since my break. I wasn’t exactly eager to get out of the van and face them. I grabbed the mask Wanda had found for me and secured it to my face. As soon as it was latched correctly, the door of the van was yanked open by Clint, who helped the half-awake Scott to his feet. I heard them exchange greetings. Then I heard my name.

“Where’s Robin?”

Clint looked back at me, “She’s-” 

I forced myself to stand and exit the van. I could practically feel the awkward silence in the air. I looked to Steve first, who looked oddly guilty about something and then to Bucky. We locked eyes for a moment, then for the first time since I had known him, he smiled at me. 

“You’re looking much better compared to the last time I saw you.” He walked around the car to meet me. 

“I don’t think I can say the same." I held out my arm to him, which he met with his own in a soldier's handshake. We gripped each other's forearms for a moment before I finally spoke again, "Thank you.”

“The record? It was nothing. I wasn’t just going to-”

“No.” I cut him off, reaching up to touch the scar on my neck, “I remembered. Thank you.”

Bucky nodded, then looked back to Steve who was eyeing us both with his usual confused expression. Clint cleared his throat, “You three need to suit up. We won’t have much time.”  
“There’s a helicopter outside. If we play that as our escape, we can distract Stark and his team long enough to get Barnes to the quinjet. Scott, Robin, you’re our wild cards. They won’t be expecting either of you. Lang, you’re with me.” Steve ordered, waiting for Scott to begin suiting up before he looked at me, “I want you on the perimeter. Stay out of the main fight unless things go south.”

“I’m not sitting on my hands, Rogers.” 

He sighed, walking over to me. He reached around and grabbed the hood at the back of my jacket, pulling it up over my head. “You’re right, you’re not. I need you picking off anyone who goes after Buck or the quinjet. If you stay out of sight, they can’t take you out. Just wait for my signal.” 

I knew he was lying, I could see it. He just wanted me out of the way to keep me safe. He was right about none of the other’s knowing me, which means they wouldn’t be as hesitant to hurt me if they needed to. He was also right about me being more deadly in the shadows, it was how I was created. But I wouldn’t just be waiting on the perimeter. 

While Steve went out to intercept Tony and his team, the rest of us got into position. I ended up following Sam and Bucky while they scoped out the quinjet. 

“I know you’re not going to listen to Steve.” Bucky glanced over to me as Sam scanned for the jet. 

“You’re not going to talk me out of it.”

“I don’t want to. I know what you can do. I trained you. I just want you to know that if anything happens here I-” 

“Found it. The quinjet’s in hangar five.” Sam cut him off. 

“Go. I’ve got your back.”

Bucky nodded and ran off with Sam while I scaled up to the rafters. They barely made it a few yards before a red figure came flying through a window. It knocked Sam to the side, then turned to Bucky, who swung at it. But the man in the suit caught his fist.

“You have a metal arm? That is awesome dude!”

It was a kid. Stark brought an actual child to fight against trained assassins and super soldiers. Before I could properly react, Sam flew up and grabbed him. I kept with Bucky, flanking him from the rafters. It felt natural, in a way, like I had done it before. Maybe I had. 

The kid had slipped out of Sam’s grasp and was swinging from the same rafters I was hiding in. He had some sort of… web-like rope. It wasn’t long before he had sealed up Sam’s wings, which sent him sprawling to the ground. Before I could get to him, the kid already had him tethered down. While they were distracted with each other, Bucky motioned up to me to wait for his signal. Not that I knew what his signal would be, but when he was sent flying with Sam through the glass railing onto the floor below, I figured that was what he meant. 

“Hey Sam, give me a lift?” I muttered through the earpiece I was given. A few seconds later, his red-wing drone, came zooming by me. I leapt out, grabbed it, then grabbed the kid as I flew over him. I managed to let go just as we broke through the window and caught the ledge. 

“We have to go,” I said as I freed the two men. 

"Robin, run ahead, secure the jet. They're not looking for you." Steve's voice came crackling over my earpiece.

"Screw you, Rogers. You're not keeping me out of this."

“Robin-”

“No! No. I’m not some damsel in distress. If I get caught, I get caught.”

“I’m not losing you again. Run ahead. Secure the jet.” 

I looked towards Bucky, but he refused to meet my gaze. “Fine. But if something happens, I’m not running.” 

We left the terminal and headed outside. Sam and Bucky went to meet Steve, but I stayed close to the building. Suddenly


	10. Chapter 10

We left the terminal and headed outside. Sam and Bucky went to meet Steve, but I stayed close to the building. I was trying not to be emotional or angry, but I was. I was upset. I was angry. I was offended. Rogers had denied my every request, claiming it was in the interest of my safety. I asked him to let me have my privacy and keep my demons to myself, he found a way through all of my defences. I had begged him to kill me if I was ever compromised, he refused. Now he was treating me like a child even though I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want him protecting me. Screw that. Screw him. I wasn’t going to let him or Bucky get hurt because he sidelined me. 

My decision came at the perfect time, because as soon as I had slowed my sprint towards the airport and looked back, Steve and the others were running directly towards Tony’s team. They clashed in a blur of fists and blasts. Steve was taking on Tony, Clint with Natasha, and Bucky with a black-clad figure I didn’t recognize. The figure kicked him back against a pile of crates, and was nearly on top of him when I started running. Just as he was about to bring down his hand, which seemed to have claws at the tips of his fingers, I leapt forward. The claws dug into my forearm, but I had the figure pinned. Or at least I did before he got his feet under my stomach and kicked upwards, sending me flying off of him. I scrambled to a standing position and leapt at the man before he had time to turn back to Bucky. Though I was landing my punches against him, ke continued hitting me right back. Eventually he got a hand around my throat.

“Who are you?” An accented voice asked. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“This isn’t your fight.” He spoke calmly. Firmly. He sounded a bit like Steve in that way. 

“You attacked my friend.”

“Your friend killed my father. Stand down.”

I could feel the points of his claws against the skin of my neck, and his grip was tight enough that in a moment or two I would be completely blacked out. But then I saw the faint orange glow coming from my fists and remembered what Clint had said about my gloves. So I closed my eyes, put my hands against the mans chest, and pushed.

I learned two things in the second before I hit the ground.

1\. 5 claws ripping against the skin on my throat because the man had tightened his grip out of surprise was exponentially worse than having a trained assassin slicing into my neck because he was trying to save my life. 

2\. The gloves had obviously never been tested, because if they had, Clint would have known that, while they did reroute energy absorbed from impact, they also backfired onto the person wearing them. This meant that both me and the man were sent flying in opposite directions. 

Half of my body hit the underside of a jet bridge, resulting in a rather unpleasant crack, then I landed rather roughly onto the pavement beneath it. Bucky ran towards me, yanking me to my feet and forcing me to sprint back to cover. I fell back against the truck we had ducked behind.

“What the hell was that?” Bucky asked, “You’re compromised!” 

“You were in danger!”

“So? You should never endanger yourself for me!" 

"It wasn't for you!" 

"Who was it for then? Yourself? Your pride? Steve gave you those orders for a reason. Every second you're not on that jet, you're a distraction!" 

"If I'm a distraction, then I shouldn't be on the jet either. You have a mission in Siberia. Do you really want me there?"

"No."

I wanted to believe he didn't mean it, that he was saying it just to keep me out of harm's way. But I couldn't see the lie on his face.

Before I could protest, Steve came sliding behind the airstairs a few feet away from us. I used the distraction to slip away before Steve could see the state I was in. I could still hear their voices over the earpiece. 

“We gotta go.” Bucky called, “Our guy’s probably in Siberia by now.” 

“We gotta draw out the fliers. I’ll take Vision, you get to the jet.”

“No! You get to the jet.” Sam ordered, “Both of you. The rest of us aren't getting out of here.” 

I heard Clint agreeing, and Scott offering up some sort of distraction, but I had stopped listening. I was too busy charging up the gloves. Not that they worked well to begin with, but they could always be useful. It was then I started to realize I had no idea who I was fighting. Not in the ‘I don’t know what I’m up against’ sense, but I didn’t know who I was hurting. I had tossed a child from a window, and I had thrown a man into a wall because he was fighting Buck, who he genuinely thought was the man who murdered his father. Part of me took comfort in the fact that they were superhumans. Everything I did seemed to bounce right off of them. This wasn't a battle, just a distraction.

As it turns out, Scott's contribution turned out to be growing to the size of a skyscraper and catching the Iron Patriot mid-flight. I waited until Steve and Bucky took off towards the hanger before I leapt into the battle, using Scott as a cover. I chased down the man in the black suit from earlier, holding him off to give the soldiers a head start. 

"We need to stop meeting like this." I remarked, catching his hand in my own. 

"Why do you fight their battle?"

"They saved my life." 

"They have taken many others." 

"So have I. Not by choice." 

"There's always a choice." 

I got the man to the ground, my knee against his throat, "My will was beaten out of me day after day for 19 years. Tell me what choice I had." 

Suddenly, a blast of light flew dangerously close to my head, which I was barely able to duck away from. It was enough of a distraction that the man beneath me threw me off of him. 

I looked up, coming face to face with Iron Man, "I'm sorry, who are you?" 

Before I could answer, Sam's voice came crackling through my earpiece, "Duck." 

Just as redwing came zooming towards the back of my head, I dropped to my knees. It smashed directly into Tony's helmet, knocking him back enough that I could slip away. Before he could pursue me, Scott stepped in front of him, and had suddenly become the biggest threat again. I continued after the man in black, who was dangerously close to catching up with Steve and Bucky. 

Just as he was about to reach them, Clint leapt in front of him, pushing him back enough that I was able to catch up. He must've known I was after him, though, because he grabbed me before I could get my hands on him. I dropped my bodyweight, twisted, and flipped the man over my shoulder.

Clint fired arrow after arrow at him as I slipped away, "Aren't you supposed to be on that jet?"

"It's like you said, some of us aren't making it out of here." 

"That didn't include you." 

"It does now." 

When Barton realized that his arrows were doing nothing against the man, he stepped back, somehow turning his now into a staff of some sort. 

"I don't think we've met. I'm Clint." 

"I don't care." 

"Echo, a little help would be nice!" Wanda called. She was holding the Iron Patriot back by tossing cars at him. This was my first time seeing her powers and they were definitely impressive. 

"Think you can throw me?" I asked her as I charged up my gloves. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive. On my count: 1-" I couldn't even get the number out, because she had already flung me towards the Patriot. He didn't seem to realize until it was too late that I was a human, not another car. Before he could react appropriately, I had already brought my fist down into him, flinging both of us in opposite directions. I was prepared for it this time, though, and hit the ground in a roll. 

"Guys, something just flew in me!"

Through Scott's legs, I could see Steve and Bucky nearly reaching the hanger, then a beam of light hitting the flight tower. 

"Wanda!" I called, already sprinting towards the hanger. 

Red light caught the structure, holding it up long enough for the boys to reach it, but she dropped it just as they got through, which meant I was cut off. I tried to scale the pile of rubble, and had nearly made it to the top then the man in black caught up. He gripped my ankle, flinging me backwards like a doll. He was in the hanger in seconds. 

 

I cursed under my breath, scrambling to my feet and up the pile of rubble. When I reached the top, Natasha was holding the man in black off while Steve and Bucky were boarding the jet. Bucky saw me and for a second we locked eyes, but then he turned and climbed into the jet. I jumped to the ground and ran towards them. As much as Bucky's words from earlier had stung, I didn't truly believe they would just leave me behind. 

But they did. 

The quinjet took off. I tried to leap up, but it was too far in the air for me to grab it. I watched helplessly as my one chance at freedom left me behind. 

I looked at the sky for a moment, then behind me. Natasha had already run off, no doubt wanting to avoid the consequences of betraying the side she was supposed to be fighting for. The man was standing still, staring at me. 

"I'm not going to run." I told him. I removed my hood and pulled the mask from my face, holding steady eye contact with him. 

He said nothing at first, but then he turned attention to the sky. "What are you to him?" 

I followed his gaze and laughed. An exhausted, broken laugh that barely masked the sob escaping beneath it. 

"I am an echo of a memory living in the deepest, darkest parts of his mind. Like a cave, when he nears it, he can hear me. The deeper he goes the more clear I become but as he draws away, I grow quiet. Not just him. Steve, Clint... I am nothing if no one else shouts first. Look at me!" I motioned down at myself, "I wear another man's clothes and mask, I carry another man's weapon. Even my name comes from someone else. Without it, I am nothing more than a series of numbers." 

 

"I thought by coming here, I could be something more. I could be a voice for once. But the moment I go back there, they'll take me away and either I'll live out my days in a cell or they'll show me "mercy" and I'll be a weapon for them to use whenever and however they want. But it's my price to pay. I chose this, after all. I wanted something more, and this is my punishment."

The man was silent for a few more moments, but then he removed his mask as I did, "You fought for the man who killed my father." 

"It wasn't him." 

"How do you know?" 

"Because a day before that bomb went off in Vienna, Bucky Barnes was saving my life. Not the Winter Soldier. They are not the same men, just as I am not the killer I was bred to be. Even if someone had gotten to him and spoken his trigger words, James Buchanan Barnes is not the man who killed your father." 

I explained the brainwashing to him. What it feels like to have the humanity ripped from you with a few phrases or a few measures of music. I told him about the helplessness. The shame. The anger. I told him everything because he was the only one on Stark's side of this battle that was willing to listen. 

"Do you know where they are going?" He asked once I was finished. 

"Siberia. There's a base there where a team of supersoldiers just like the Winter Soldier are waiting to be thawed. The man who truly killed King T'Chaka is already there." 

"If you take me, I will grant you asylum in Wakanda. We can work to undo what has been done to you and Barnes." 

"I won't be a weapon for you." I warned. 

He laughed, picking up both of our masks, "I do not need you. Your abilities are nothing compared to what my warriors have to offer. But you can help with the herds. You could learn to build armor. You can help our scientists in the lab." 

He handed me my mask, then secured his own, "You can be a voice."


	11. Author's note

Hey guys! I really hope you're enjoying the story so far! I just wanted to say a quick thank you to the handful of people that have been here since chapter one and leave comments on every update. It means the world to me! I try to respond to every comment I get because I enjoy talking to you guys. But if you ever want to have an actual conversation with me (fic requests, criticism, random facts) you can find me on tumblr @fantastical-fanfic-fanatic

 

I also wanted to share the concept art I did when coming up with Robin's uniform. I'm a costume designer by trade, so this is something I do for almost any outfit I write about. Hopefully, she'll get some more high-tech gear when she travels to Wakanda.  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

1964- Arnis, Germany

“We have a present for the asset.”

21753 stood frozen in the hallway, eyes locked on the HYDRA officer who was meant to be guarding her. It was merely a formality. She didn’t have the same tendency to break as the Asset. Yet the officer still kept a nervous eye on her, and deep down, she enjoyed it. 

“Approach.”

The soldier obeyed, stepping into the brightly lit room with the group of men. Commanding officers. 

“Identify.” 

“Soldier 21753. Alias: the shadow"

One of the men approached her to get a better look, “Very impressive. You’ve kept her away from us for too long, Doctor.”

“Perfection is a process. She is perfection.” 

The man held his gaze with the doctor, reading the lie in his voice. After a beat of silence, he turned towards the soldiers that lined the room. “Bring in the asset.” 

Opposite of where 21753 had entered, a metal door slid open and a man emerged from the shadows. He was flanked by 4 soldiers, all heavily armed. His eyes locked on the girl. She was new. She was a threat. 

The doctor stood between them, a twisted smile on his lips. “Identify the Winter Soldier as your superior. All orders will be obeyed unless contradicted by outranking officers. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. Asset, alias: Winter Soldier, identified as commanding officer. Awaiting orders.” 

A satisfied sigh came from the doctor’s throat as he turned to face the asset, “Take care of her, won’t you?”

The soldier complied.

\---

1976 - Austria

HYDRA hadn’t been too keen on sending Snowfall’s little experiment into the field with their prized asset. But it became clear that the girl took orders exceptionally well, and she was much more subtle than the Winter Soldier. She was also impressively trained in the art of seduction and information retrieval. If one wasn’t careful, they might’ve caught themselves believing she had feelings. 

After several years on and off ice, the asset and the shadow were assigned their first mission together without backup. It was meant to be an easy takedown. In and out in less than 24 hours. Of course nothing went to plan, and the two elite soldiers found themselves stranded with no possible means of extraction for 6 days. They were both explicitly aware of the consequences they would suffer when the mission was over. This awareness would lead directly to two very pivotal moments: The first time the asset had spoken to 21753 when not giving an order, and the first time the asset smiled. The first event happened on day 2. The soldiers had managed to last nearly 33 hours cramped in a studio flat while never touching each other. But as the asset was exiting the restroom, he had accidentally hit 21753 with the door. 

“Sorry.”

It had been mumbled. Not in Russain, but in plain, American English. Both soldiers froze, equally caught off guard by the word. 

"Repeat?" 21753 asked in Russian, but the asset said nothing. Instead he continued walking as if nothing happened, and the girl forced herself to do the same. 

The next event happened 2 days after that, late at night. At 2300 hours, the Winter Soldier was alerted by the sounds of crying from the mattress where 21753 was meant to be resting. He approached her, curiosity overtaking him. The shadow had never, in his knowledge, cried. This was a break and would be reported at the conclusion of the mission.

Until then, however, the asset still had his orders from the doctor. Take care of the shadow. He knelt down and gathered the girl against him. She seemed to be asleep, unaware of the weakness she was revealing. However, when the cold touch of the asset's metal fingers woke her, and she found herself tucked against him, she did not pull away. She remained completely still until the Winter Soldier himself had dozed off, then she allowed herself to pull back slightly to study him. 

This was a compromising position to be in, and would certainly result in recalibration for both of them if it was ever revealed. So, she made the decision to not reveal it. It was an idea she had never considered before. It was against her conditioning to omit information from a mission report. But it was for the best. She could not compromise the safety of a commanding officer, and she had been trained in keeping secrets. So by some train of logic, she had convinced herself that being held by her commanding officer was both a detail not pertinent enough to be mentioned and a secret of the highest importance. 

Satisfied by her conclusion, the shadow allowed herself to fall back against the soldier, taking comfort in his protective grasp. This action, while it didn't wake the asset, it did cause a visible, subconscious reaction. 

The Winter Soldier smiled. 

\---  
1988- Siberia

It had been 12 years since they put the asset on ice. They had thawed out the shadow over a year ago, and a few times before that. Every time they woke her up, she asked for him. Every time she asked for him, they injected her with the batch of chemicals the doctor had used in her conditioning and cranked up the record. They never wiped her memory, though. They truly believed there was nothing to wipe. But she had been learning every time they sent her out. Studying. As she normally does when she knows she's defying commands, she rationalized her actions. She could better imitate a civilian when they sent her out on missions. 

When they did finally thaw out the asset, the shadow was brought to him. She had been waiting for so long to see him again. But when he looked at here, there was nothing. No recognition. No emotion. 

"Identify." He ordered. 

"Soldier 21753. Alias: the shadow." She spoke with the usual intonation, kept the usual blank face, but in her gut she felt a pain similar to being stabbed. 

They were sent on a mission the next day. An easy one. Lure, isolate, execute. But the shadow had a mission of her own. Once the job was done, and they had to wait for extraction, she spoke openly for the first time in her life. 

"Do you remember?" 

The soldier stared at her, "Remember?" 

"Me. Austria." 

"1974, January 4th. Extraction attempts failed and were delayed for 5 days. Mission completed on January 10th." 

"You held me. Do you remember that?" 

"It was not in the report." 

"I did not report it." 

The shadow reached out, her fingers brushing the back of his metal hand. He jerked away was if she had electrocuted him. There were several seconds of tense silence before either one of them spoke again. 

"You cry in your sleep." 

"You hum in yours." 

\---  
1998-Arnis

The shadow could not recall being transported back to the Snowfall base, nor could she recall being frozen at all. But when she woke up, for the first time in her life, she was alone in a room. 

She remained still for several minutes, awaiting orders, but none came. So she stood, then waited for orders, but none came. It did not make sense. She could not have been woken accidentally. She was nowhere near the chamber they froze her in. 

The heavy metal door that led from the room, which was usually locked at all times, was torn halfway off its hinges. Laying directly on the other side of it was a body. One of the guards. 

She knew him well, as she knew everyone in the facility well. Snowfall always kept a very limited staff. As she continued through the base, she saw almost every single one of them. She did not feel sadness or fear. Even if she had the capability to do so, she doubted she would. Not for these men. 

She recognized the kills after examining the second body. She knew the methods very well, since she had seen them in action many times on many missions. 

She left the bodies and quickened her search through the facility, looking in every room where files and weapons and tests were kept. Nothing. Then she finally found herself in front of the room they trained her in. Circular with the concrete floors. 

It was also the room she had been sold to HYDRA in. In the center of the room, the Winter Soldier stood. Waiting. 

She stepped towards him, "Report." 

"Snowfall initiative has been discontinued. All records must be wiped. All evidence must be destroyed. All personnel must be-" His voice faltered, and his eyebrows furrowed. 

"How much time?" She asked, taking another calculated step. 

He understood what she was asking immediately. The time before the mission was completed. It was always the only time they had when they could find some semblance of comfort. Usually in a small touch of the hands or the flash of a smile. Actions that went directly against their conditioning. 

"Enough." He answered, closing the gap between them. He was distressed. He was… soft. He wasn't the soldier she trained with. It was an obvious difference. He studied her too, his eyes scanning over every feature as if he was trying to memorize them. 

"They will make me forget you." He stated. 

"You have forgotten me many times." 

"I always remember. You make me remember. Not just you but…" his eyebrows furrowed again, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. She had never seen him do that before. 

"But?" 

"I remember more. About… myself." His words were slow and confused. 

"I do not understand." 

He looked at her. It was a look that told her 'neither do I'. They stood there motionless for a few minutes, not quite touching, but close enough that it was intimate. 

"You have to kill me." The shadow spoke finally. 

The winter soldier stiffened, then moved. Suddenly. Quickly. For a brief moment she believed he was actually going to kill her ten and there. But it wasn't a knife that landed against her back, it was his hand, pulling her flush against him. Then, he kissed her. 

The shadow had kissed many men in her time. It was part of her job. But kissing the asset was different. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about kissing him. She had. Several times. But that was barrier they never considered breaking. That was admitting they had fallen too far. 

It was nothing like she had expected. Either. She had imagined him to be rough. Pulling, biting… It just fit in his assassin lifestyle. But everything he did in the few seconds that he was against her was gentle. Still hungry, but soft nonetheless. It was beautiful. Then, it was over. He pulled away. Leaving her in a daze as he left the room. She didn't move from that spot. She didn't have the authority to. 

She could rationalize leaving the room she woke up in, because there was no identified commanding officers. But since she saw the asset, she was now bound to his word. She knew it wouldn't matter if she moved or not. He had to kill her. Those were his orders and the Winter Soldier always carried out orders. In a way, she was relieved that it was going to be him to kill her. She trusted him. 

He had been gone for 20 minutes. The room had started to fill with smoke. She still didn't move. She just counted the time, statistics clouding her mind. Categorizing potential weapons and cover in the room, running through a mental checklist of her body functions. It was tedious, but it kept her mind busy. 

When she saw the asset again, he had busted down the door to the training room, surprise washing over his eyes as they met her. 

"You are still here?" 

"You did not tell me to move." 

"The facility is burning." 

"I know." 

He let out a frustrated sigh, "Follow." 

The shadow obeyed, weaving with him through the burning hallways. It was hot, unbearably so. Occasionally, they would get so close to a flame, she could feel it burning at her skin. But she kept going, never faltering in the pace she kept with the asset. 

He lead her outside into the snow. The wind was brutal, and the cold temperature seemed to worsen the burns along her arms and ankles. She hasn't noticed until they stopped moving, but there was a nearly unbearable pain on the calf of her left leg. A wound the size of her palm had seared into her skin. The mere act of standing hurt more than she could describe. 

"You should have left." 

"I did not have orders-" 

"No more orders. You are injured. Let me see." He stepped towards her, but she stepped away. 

"You have to kill me." 

He tried again, but she stepped back once more. Her foot caught on a patch of ice and slipped out from underneath her. She collapsed into the pile of snow behind her. 

 

He let out another sigh, then steeled himself again. "Stand." The soldier ordered.

The shadow complied, scrambling to her feet and standing before him. He removed a knife from his hip and walked towards her. This time, she didn't move. This was what he had to do. She knew that, and it was okay. At least he was allowing her to die with a clear mind. It was the only mercy she would ever plead for. She didn't flinch when she felt the blade against her neck or when pain coursed through her as the skin there was sliced open. 

He was too slow. Too careful. Was he going to torture her as well?

She would've believed so, but after a moment, he dropped the knife and pressed his flesh hand to the wound, using his metal one to tear a bit of fabric of his uniform, which he used to replace his hand. The remained there for a moment, ever locked on her face rather than the wound he was now trying to treat. 

"Run." He ordered. When she didn't move, he pushed her slightly and spoke in English, "You're free." 

"Free? Mission not fulfilled. Complete the mission, soldier."

"Mission accomplished. Snowfall destroyed. 21753 destroyed." He touched his neck, indicating the area he had cut her. He was suddenly a man she didn't know. A stranger. Familiar, but still strange. He spoke to her once more in the same plain English she had heard on their first mission together, with a cadence that could never be taught. "Go. Run. Please."

She did run. She ran and she forgot. She ran and moved on. She never stopped running.


	16. Chapter 16

I could rationalize a lot of things. It was how I used to overcome my conditioning when I was first freed. Those first few weeks in hiding, I would be unable to sleep at night, and even when I did, I couldn't force myself out of bed in the morning. I wasn't supposed to leave my bed without a commanding officer. I constantly had to remind myself that there were no commanding officers. That I had to decide where to go and what to do. I was constantly battling my own mind. 

That's where the rationalization kicked in. The little loophole I learned when the Winter Soldier and I shared our moments. I would convince the soldier inside of me that I wasn't breaking orders every time I did something outside of orders, because, technically, it was for self preservation. As long as it didn't bring harm in any way to a commanding officer, my standing orders were to preserve my life. I was expensive. So I had to sleep to prevent exhaustion. I had to get out of bed. I had to eat. I had to enrich my mind. All for the sake of preservation, I rationalized being alive.

I could rationalize working with Steve when he came pounding at my door. I had to find Bucky before he was caught by HYDRA and reported my location. I had to give into my desires towards Steve to keep myself from getting distracted. I had to travel with Clint to the confrontation in Germany, and it was okay that Steve was ordering me to stay out of the battle because he didn't want me caught or killed. But it was also okay that I broke his orders because I had to protect Bucky. I had to trust T'Challa when he told me to hide in the hangar and trust him to return for me, however long it might take. 

But the one thing I couldn't rationalize, the one thing I couldn't explain away, was why Bucky and Steve abandoned me. Was I really such a distraction? I wasn't some damsel in distress, I was a soldier. But that was the catch, wasn't it? If I brought up my anger towards them, then it would perpetuate this idea that I was emotional, irrational, and not to be trusted. 

I spent 24 hours alone in that hanger. The first few were spent hiding from cleanup crews. Not too difficult, since most of the damage was outside. But the hours spent cramped in a crate while they cleared out the fallen tower were rather unpleasant. But it was worse when they left. I was completely and utterly alone. And hungry. And pissed off. 

As the hours drug on, I found myself doing a lot of thinking, something I hadn't had much time to do since that night with Bucky. The truth of the matter was: I loved them. 

Both of them. Not because of how many times they had saved me, but because of who they were. Steve's eyes, the unique tone in his voice that could only come from a man out of time, the way he squinted when he laughed. With Bucky, it was different. I knew him as the asset. But in those times in between missions when we compromised each other, I met Bucky Barnes and I fell in love with him. 

But they had left me to be arrested. They couldn't have known that T'Challa would show me mercy. They couldn't have. I was a necessary sacrifice in their eyes. In a way, it made sense. They loved each other, and I was still an outsider. I grew to understand that. I was still upset, of course, and I had every right to be because Bucky had looked me in the eyes when he closed that door. But I understood. 

When T'challa finally came back for me, I was in a better place. Level headed. Calm. Still very hungry. As soon as I had boarded his jet, he told me about the psychologist that was found dead and the prosthetic facial features made to look like Bucky. 

"So it wasn't Barnes?" 

"It doesn't appear so. Do you know this man?" I was handed a picture. I stared at it for a while, trying to connect the face to any memory I had, but I couldn't. It was frustrating. This man should obviously be connected to HYDRA, right? That would be the most logical explanation, but he wasn't anyone I knew from any files. 

I shook my head, "No." I gave him the coordinates to the base. The numbers came easily, as I had plenty of time to dig them up out of my crowded memory. Too much time. 

"Will we be able to catch up to them? They have 24 hours on us, they have to be there already." 

"We will catch them." 

"How-" 

T'challa glanced at me, a look that asked me to shut up and trust him. I hadn't had the best luck with trusting men in the past few days, but I complied anyways, distracting myself with cleaning my mask. 

"Your neck is healing." He commented after a moment. I had nearly forgotten about the injury there, something I probably should have paid more attention to. I ran my fingers along the raised, jagged lines. I didn't think they would leave scars, which was something I was grateful for. I had enough of those. "I am sorry about that, by the way." 

"I'm sorry I threw you across the pavement." I responded. 

After a moment, soft, somber laughter filled the cockpit, the bizarre nature of the situation you were both in suddenly becoming very clear. Hours ago I would have killed this man if I had to, and I was sure he felt the same. But now you were comrades, blindly trusting each other. It was all you could do, really. 

After a second, the laughter died, and suddenly you were on a mission again. "Stark is on his way as well. He received the same information I did." 

"He knows it wasn't Bucky?" 

"I believe so." 

There was a silence as, for a brief moment I allowed myself to feel hopeful that all of this could end. The hiding, running, everything. But somehow, deep down, I knew it never would. Besides, I was not one of them. I doubted I ever could be. If they didn't trust James Barnes, who had a history of being loyal and kind before he was forced to be someone else, why would they ever trust the stranger who had no history? The girl who had to unlearn the violence rather than just snap out of it. The one who's trigger could be played anywhere at any time and could be nearly undetectable. I wouldn't trust myself. I didn't trust myself. 

"Does Stark know you let me go?"

"No," T'challa replied, "He believes you were in the jet with Barnes. No one would tell him who you were." 

"I- Thank you." I responded, not sure what else I could say. The rest of the flight was spent prepping. I told him everything I knew about the Winter Soldier in case anything happened with Bucky, and what little information I had about the other soldiers. From what I could tell, they had been established after Snowfall was discontinued, and was probably the reason for the decision to destroy the initiative in the first place. 

I was the only successful soldier out of the organization, and it had taken years to grow me from scratch. While, on paper, simply raising a supersoldier seemed much more effective than having to brainwash an adult, in practice it was nearly impossible and incredibly tedious. 

I also told him about me. What to expect if somehow, whoever this man was, knew about the song. 

"Go for my neck." I explained. "Keep your eyes on me. I was built for stealth, so as long as I can't get the drop on you, you can probably overpower me. Bucky can override me, but if he's down, then just kill me." 

T'challa didn't argue. He didn't try to claim that it wouldn't ever get to that point. We both knew it could. I appreciated him for that.

When we neared the coordinates, I began to feel uneasy. Not just uneasy, but practically sick to my stomach. Every part of me screamed to stay away from the building. I wasn't supposed to be there. I was unauthorized. I argued with myself that I was, that I had a mission there. It troubled me that the instinct was still there in the first place. I still had to rationalize. 

I wasn't like James. I had no identity to snap back into. I was born as 21753. I gradually took control of my mind purely out of survival, but that conditioning was still there. All that damn song did was shut off the rationalization, the fear, the conscious thought, everything that made me human. If something happened, and I was forced to rely on instinct… How easy would it be for me to break? 

When we arrived, it was clear that something had already taken place, or was still taking place. The sounds coming from inside the building were clear as a bell as we approached it. 

"Stark is here." T'Challa noted at the sound of his weapons echoing from the concrete. We climbed from the jet, securing our masks into place. 

"Do you think it's the soldiers?" I asked, receiving no response as I followed his gloved hand that motioned to the roof, where a man was sitting alone. I nodded, "Go. I'll get inside." 

I followed the noises as quietly as I could, pressed against the concrete walls. The shoes I was wearing weren't great for stealth, so I had to deliberately place each step to assure my footfalls wouldn't give me away. If those supersoldiers were awake, the last thing I needed was to alert them to my presence before I even got into the room. When I reached the doorway, though, I realized that wouldn't be an issue. As I peered into the large room where most of the noise was coming from, I could still see the shadows of bodies frozen in their chambers. They were still asleep? No, there was a clean, distinct bullet hole in each pane of glass. They were dead. All of them. 

Then who the hell was fighting?


End file.
